


Writ

by notallballs (notallbees)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Tattoos, Artists, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Moving Tattoo(s), Muses, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-16 07:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21032753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallballs
Summary: Kana cleared her throat. "Kuroo-sensei," she said, putting a hand between Morisuke's shoulders and nudging him forward a step. "There's someone I'd like you to meet."The man straightened up after a moment, turning to them. "Kana-san," he said, getting to his feet. He was taller than Morisuke had expected. Annoyingly tall. He gave Morisuke the barest glance. "What's this?"Morisuke couldn't help but bristle at thewhat."I heard you were looking for your next project," she said, her hand settling on Morisuke's shoulder. "And I know you can't resist a pretty face."A young man down on his luck faces years of indenture, but he's offered the chance of something better when he meets an artist looking for inspiration.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tiggeryumyum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiggeryumyum/gifts).

> i'm on a mission to write the most problematic kryk i can think of, but in the meantime: this
> 
> also this is my 100th haikyuu fic! boy howdy! i sure do love those volleyboys.

"Are you sure about this?" 

Morisuke took a deep breath, and looked again up at the grand, highly decorated archway that marked the entrance to the artist's estate. "Do I have a choice?"

Kana, his bondswoman, merely shrugged. "I can't promise that he'll take you, but it's a good life if he does."

Privately, Morisuke felt that the odds of his being selected to be an Adorned were slim to nothing. He was nothing special; not tall, or strong, or particularly handsome. There was nothing much to recommend him to a master of the craft like Kuroo-sensei. But if the alternative was five years of drudgery, he was willing to bear the risk of ridicule if there was some chance at better.

Slowly, Morisuke nodded.

"Come then," Kana said, putting a proprietary hand on his shoulder and leading him on. "Tarrying here will do you no good." 

It was a short walk to the house, which was a sprawling, yet elegant establishment. They were quickly shown inside; not only were they expected, but the servants were clearly familiar with Kana, and they were served tea and small rice crackers as soon as they were seated. They sat for several minutes in an uncomfortable silence, sipping their tea, before another sleepy-eyed servant came to inform them that the master had agreed to see them in his atelier.

"He's a little eccentric," Kana whispered as she shepherded Morisuke along the hallway at the servant's heels. "Just don't do or say anything to offend him."

"I'm not an idiot," Morisuke muttered, scowling. Despite his words, he couldn't deny the flutter behind his breastbone; if the master disapproved of him, his prospects were slim. As the servant bowed low to admit them entry, Morisuke's breath caught in his chest. Kana eyed him briefly, and gave him a quelling look in response to his own curious gaze. Then, she gave him a push, and he stepped inside. 

Morisuke cast his gaze around the atelier; skylights high above brought the sunlight pouring in, while the outer walls were made up of panels that had been folded back to let more dappled light stream in through the trees. Fine paper screens stood in their place, tempering the sunlight only a little. Their host had not yet risen to greet them; he sat hunched over his work in the corner of the room, so that all Morisuke could see of him was the slope of his narrow shoulders and a shock of untidy black hair.

Kana cleared her throat. "Kuroo-sensei," she said, putting a hand between Morisuke's shoulders and nudging him forward a step. "There's someone I'd like you to meet." 

The man straightened up after a moment, turning to them. "Kana-san," he said, getting to his feet. He was taller than Morisuke had expected. Annoyingly tall. He gave Morisuke the barest glance. "What's this?"

Morisuke couldn't help but bristle at the _what_.

"I heard you were looking for your next project," she said, her hand settling on Morisuke's shoulder. "And I know you can't resist a pretty face." 

Kuroo smiled at her, but his eyes narrowed. He looked like a cat that was about to start toying with its food. "There's a lot more to it than that," he said with dry amusement. Finally, he deigned to lower his gaze to Morisuke, and a frown appeared between his dark eyebrows. "How old is he?" 

"I'm one and twenty," Morisuke growled. "And I can speak for myself." 

Beside him, Kana recoiled. "Kuroo-sensei, I'm sorry—" 

But Kuroo was smiling that dangerous smile again. "That's alright, Kana-san, he's quite right. I'm being impolite." He hadn't taken his eyes off Morisuke's face. "Are you sure? You're awfully small for one and twenty." 

Morisuke scowled, but Kana's hand tightened painfully on his shoulder before he could respond. He choked down his first, impolitic response with difficulty. This interview might be his only real chance at a roof over his head and food in his belly. Kuroo was still watching him closely, the corner of his mouth tilted in amusement. "I'm sure," Morisuke gritted out.

Kuroo eyed him a moment longer, then he spoke to Kana. "Wait outside."

"But—Kuroo-sensei—" Kana protested.

"Kana-san," Kuroo said, in a sly, disarming tone. "Do you think I'm going to dirty your precious merchandise?" He ran his eyes slowly over Morisuke, who recoiled at the heat in Kuroo's gaze.

"I'd like to see you try," Morisuke muttered.

Kuroo laughed. "You see?" He winked at the bondswoman. "I'll send him out when I'm satisfied."

The double entendre was undoubtedly intended, going by the wicked glint in Kuroo's eye. Morisuke wrinkled his nose, but managed to keep his colourful remarks to himself. He cast a desperate look in Kana's direction, but she only shook her head.

"Just do as Kuroo-sensei asks you," she said, making a shooing motion at him as she backed away. She bowed deeply to Kuroo. "I hope you find him suitable, Kuroo-sensei." 

Kuroo was nodding, scarcely listening to her. He ran his eyes almost hungrily over Morisuke's face, and then the rest of him, shameless. 

Morisuke stared back at him. He may not have had a coin to his name, but he still had his dignity, and he wasn't going to bow and scrape just because the man knew how to wield a brush. He held Kuroo's gaze as the man stared into his face curiously. Kuroo had narrow eyes, the dark irises rimmed in gold, although a lopsided fringe obscured part of his vision. He brushed it aside as he leaned closer, and Morisuke finally lowered his own gaze. As he did, he caught a glimpse of ink beneath the collar of Kuroo's yukata, and his eyes widened at the sight.

"Do you know what Kana-san is bargaining for, here?" Kuroo asked him. 

"Of course," Morisuke said, dragging up the dregs of his bravado. "I'd be an Adorned." 

Kuroo nodded. "Do you understand what that means though?"

Morisuke swallowed thickly. "I'd be yours. Your canvas." 

"Five years is customary," Kuroo said, nodding again. "Usually I just take over the remainder of an existing contract though. When did you sign your bond with Kana?" 

"Uh. Yesterday." 

Kuroo's eyebrows lurched upward. "I see." He let his eyes roam again, and Morisuke's courage began to turn to impatience, but he forced himself to bite his tongue. 

For several moments, Kuroo was silent, but at last he spoke. "Are these freckles, or dirt?" he murmured, eyes narrowing. Reaching out, he poked Morisuke's nose with the tip of his finger. 

"I know how to bathe," Morisuke said, recoiling from him, his voice a little more surly than he'd intended.

Kuroo smirked at him. "Just teasing."

"Do you want my bond or not?" Morisuke asked. 

"I'll have to have a look at you first," Kuroo said simply. "Take your clothes off."

Morisuke looked up at him, bewildered. "What?"

"I need to see your skin, if you're to carry my work."

"But—"

Kuroo's smile widened a fraction. "Shy? You'll soon be cured of that if you join my household."

"I'm not shy," Morisuke said hotly. He took a step back from Kuroo and loosened the thin tie around his waist. He shed his clothes quickly, and Kuroo took them from him when he looked around for somewhere to place them. It wasn't so unpleasant to shed his clothes on such a warm day, especially with the sun streaming in through the near-translucent paper screens, except that he was all too aware of Kuroo's appraising eyes on him, the way his gaze skimmed over the lines and curves of his body like a lover's caress. 

"You're not as slight as I took you for," Kuroo said quietly, turning his head this way and that. "What kind of work have you done?"

Morisuke's ears were hot. He tried not to rise to the insult. "I was apprenticed to a calligrapher, but I spent most of my time hauling his supplies to and fro."

Kuroo hummed quietly. Morisuke wished he would just come out and say what he was thinking; it was infuriating.

"How do you bleed?"

Morisuke wrinkled his nose. "_What_?"

"Does it stop quickly, when you cut yourself?"

"I don't know. I suppose so."

"Do you spend a lot of time in the sun?" 

"Not really."

Kuroo frowned. "I don't normally take people with so many freckles." 

"Then don't take me," Morisuke snapped, too weary to remember that he was supposed to be polite.

It didn't seem that Kuroo had heard, however. He was circling Morisuke like a cat stalking a mouse, his face lost in thought. He circled behind Morisuke again and suddenly a gentle touch whispered down the length of his spine. Morisuke flinched at the touch, and Kuroo murmured an apology, but didn't stop his appraisal. Morisuke's face was getting hot. After a moment, Kuroo touched him again, drawing a fingertip along the width of Morisuke's shoulders. It took all his strength of will to suppress the shudder. 

"There's something about it," Kuroo mused. His hand hovered just shy of Morisuke's skin, raising the hairs on the back of his neck at the promise of his touch. "Hmm."

Morisuke swallowed, and raised his eyes as Kuroo circled him once more, coming to a halt before him. He wanted to speak, uncomfortable in the face of such scrutiny, but Kuroo's gaze was distant, as though he wasn't seeing Morisuke in front of him at all. 

"Very well," Kuroo said at length. "You can get dressed again."

"Thank you," Morisuke muttered, unable to keep the hint of sarcasm from his voice.

"I'll be along in a minute," Kuroo said, turning back to his desk. Morisuke could've sworn he sounded amused again, but it was impossible to tell from his back. 

Kana was sipping her tea again when Morisuke rejoined her, still pulling his clothes into order. She looked up, eyes brightening. "Well? What did he think of you?"

"How should I know?" Morisuke grumbled as he knelt down again beside her. He picked up his lukewarm tea and drained the cup, then reached for a handful of the little rice crackers and chewed them furiously.

"Was it that bad?" Kana asked, eyeing him warily.

Morisuke scowled. "You told me he was a genius."

"He is."

"If you insist," he muttered.

Kana clucked her tongue. "It would be a great honour to bear Kuroo-sensei's artwork."

Morisuke grimaced. Adorned were kept in luxury. It was forbidden to bear their adornments out of doors, but they could earn a fortune by displaying them in private. That would be after his five year bond had lapsed, of course. Until then, every coin he earned would belong to his master.

"Forgive me," Morisuke said, feeling suddenly nauseous. He rose and stumbled away from the table, stepping barefoot out into the garden. The sleepy-eyed servant sat on the edge of the porch, and although he didn't raise his head, he seemed to know that Morisuke stood there. 

"Having second thoughts?" the young man asked.

Morisuke hesitated. He took two steps over and sat down beside him, leaving a respectable distance between them. "Would you do it?" he asked after a moment. 

The servant snorted. "He gave me the choice, once."

Intrigued, Morisuke couldn't help looking at the man out of the corner of his eye. He was taller than Morisuke, but not by much, and while his clothing was simple, it was clearly expensive and well made. His long, straight hair was gathered into a knot, except for a severe fringe that fell across his eyes. He had delicate features, but it was clear that he had a tendency to stoop. Adorned were chosen for their looks, but also for their ability to display their artwork favorably. 

"I don't mean to sound rude," Morisuke said, "but you don't seem like the kind of person that normally gets chosen to be Adorned." 

The man snorted again softly. "No. It was stupid of him to ask me. I would've hated it." 

Morisuke raised his eyebrows. He began to wonder if the man might not be a servant at all. "Aren't you worried I'm going to tell him you called him stupid?" 

He received a disdainful look in response, which seemed to suggest the man might be forming a similar opinion about Morisuke. "I've said it to his face plenty of times," the man said, shrugging. "We've been friends since we were children. He knows I won't lie to him." 

"Oh, I'm sorry," Morisuke said. "I thought you were part of Kuroo-sensei's household."

The man nodded. "Kuro offered me a home when my parents died. He was already apprenticed to Nekomata-sensei by then, but the old man didn't turn me away."

Morisuke looked down at his hands. Kuroo wasn't what he'd been expecting, and he wasn't entirely sure yet if that was a good thing or not. 

"He'll treat you well, if that's what you're worried about," the man offered. 

"Of course he will," Morisuke said, laughing under his breath. "Who'd mistreat an Adorned?"

The man looked pained, briefly, but then he turned away without answering. 

"Yaku-kun?" Kana called. 

Morisuke's shoulders stiffened. The next few moments would decide his fate; if Kuroo rejected Kana's offer, Morisuke would have nobody to blame but himself. All he'd had to do was hold his tongue for five minutes, but instead he'd let his temper get the better of him. As he stood to return inside, he bit the inside of his cheek, furious with himself. 

Kana and Kuroo were both waiting for him as he stepped back inside. He glanced between them, but their expressions were unreadable. Far too late, he swallowed down his instincts and remained silent, waiting. 

They made him sweat for several seconds, but then Kana smiled. "Kuroo-sensei wishes to purchase your bond, Yaku-kun."

Surprise made him freeze, looking between them in stunned silence. 

"Cat got your tongue?" Kuroo asked, with a wry smile. 

Morisuke snapped his mouth shut at once. He wasn't foolish enough to retort this time, but he did allow himself the pleasure of glaring at his soon-to-be master. If anything, Kuroo seemed amused by his ill temper. 

"Will you sign the bond?" Kana asked him. 

Morisuke looked at her. He felt as though he'd stepped out of his body and was watching this from afar. It seemed impossible that Kuroo could actually choose someone like him. 

"Do you understand what it entails?" Kuroo asked quietly. "Your duty will be to this household, and to the art you'll carry." 

"No more frolicking in the sun," Kana put in sternly, as though she had any idea what Morisuke got up to in his time. 

Kuroo was nodding solemnly. "Sunlight can fade the colours faster. And, obviously, you can't do anything to endanger yourself. Nothing that would result in damage to the artwork." 

"What do you think I'm going to do?" Morisuke groused. "Chase down some bandits?"

"That would be impressive," Kuroo said, smirking at him. "But try and resist the urge."

Morisuke folded his arms with a huff. "So, what do I do? Just sit around, being pampered, while you draw on me?"

"Yaku-kun!" Kana said, looking scandalised

"Is that such a terrible fate?" Kuroo asked. Fortunately, he seemed amused rather than annoyed.

Morisuke privately felt that too much time spent around Kuroo might end up being a high price to pay for five years of easy living, but given the alternatives, it was a risk he was going to have to take. "I'll sign," he said, holding Kuroo's gaze. 

Kuroo raised an eyebrow, so that it disappeared under the messy sweep of his fringe. "Very well then," he said. He was almost smiling, but Morisuke couldn't read his expression to judge whether he was pleased or not. "Kenma," Kuroo said, turning to the man that Morisuke had spoken to on the porch. "Bring us a copy of the standard contract."

Kenma returned moments later with a scroll which he unrolled on the low table, and Kuroo knelt down to carefully ink his name on it, holding back his sleeve with his left hand. When he'd finished, he held the brush out to Morisuke, who knelt and inked the characters of his own name beneath Kuroo's. 

"You have a very neat hand," Kuroo remarked. "It's a shame things didn't work out with your calligrapher."

Kuroo's tone made Morisuke's jaw tighten. His teeth began to hurt from clenching them so tightly. He finished writing his name and passed the brush back to Kana.

"Yaku," Kuroo murmured curiously, reading over his shoulder.

Morisuke tensed. "My family name."

"I'm sorry," Kuroo said.

"Why…?"

"Congratulations," Kana said, beaming at Morisuke. "You're Kuroo writ Morisuke now."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i lied about the chapter count

Morisuke was allowed to sleep late the next day. Much later than he had under his previous master, or at Kana's halfway house the day before. When he did wake, it was with a startled gasp, certain that he'd overslept, and that he'd earned himself another beating from Yamada-sensei for dawdling. 

He stumbled out of bed in search of his clothes, then stopped, frozen and naked in front of a very surprised looking servant.

"K-Kuroo-san!" the boy stammered, lowering his gaze. He made an abortive movement, as though he wanted to drop into a bow, but he was prevented by the large basin of water he held in both arms. 

Frowning, Morisuke made a grab for a nearby robe to wrap around himself. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Sh-Shibayama," the servant muttered, eyes still downcast. 

"And how do you find working for Kuroo-sensei?"

Shibayama lifted to his eyes Morisuke's briefly in surprise, then he remembered himself and quickly cast his gaze back to the floor. "Kuroo-sensei is a good master." He cast another, brief glance at Morisuke. "He'll treat you well. He treats everyone with respect, especially his Adorned." 

"He sounds too good to be true."

"Kuroo-san?" Shibayama asked, curiously.

"Nothing," Morisuke said, shaking his head. He grimaced. "And you don't have to call me that."

Shibayama looked deeply uncomfortable. "But—forgive me, but Adorned must relinquish their family name—"

"I know, I know," Morisuke huffed. He bit his tongue, remembering the pity in Kuroo's eyes when Morisuke had signed the contract the day before, giving up his claim to the name Yaku. "Call me Morisuke, if you have to call me anything," he said decisively. "And tell the other servants too."

The boy nodded. "Yes, Morisuke-san." He bowed his head briefly, then crossed to the table and placed the basin of water down. "Do you need anything else? Ah—Kai-san has asked if you'd like to break your fast with him."

"Who's Kai-san?"

"He manages Kuroo-san's estate." Shibayama allowed himself a little smile. "He's kind. You'll like him."

"What about Kenma? What does he do around here?"

Shibayama hesitated, touching his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. "He's—Kuroo-sensei's companion."

Morisuke raised an eyebrow. "They're lovers?"

"No!" Shibayama said quickly, flushing. "Just old friends."

"Oh, really? Are you sure that's all it is?" Morisuke asked, enjoying himself too much to stop teasing. 

"Yes!" 

"Because 'old friends' sounds an awful lot like a euphemism for something else …" 

"Oh, please don't tell them I said that," Shibayama pleaded, still pink with mortification. 

Morisuke snorted. "Don't worry, I don't intend to talk to your master any more than I have to." 

Shibayama looked a little puzzled at that, but he held his tongue, like a good servant. Something Morisuke ought to remember how to do before he got himself in trouble. 

"Thank you for the water," he said, turning away to the bowl. He looked down at himself, then at the empty space at the end of his futon where his dirty clothes had been. "Oh, uh—and what am I supposed to wear?" 

"J-just the robe," Shibayama said, cringing. "Sorry. Kuroo-sensei wants you to join him after you've eaten." 

"And I'm not allowed to be dressed for that?"

Shibayama practically squirmed on the spot. "I—I'm sorry, Morisuke-san—"

"Fine," Morisuke sighed, pushing his hands through his hair. "Thank you, Shibayama." 

Shibayama bowed low, and then scurried from the room before Morisuke could embarrass him any further. When he'd gone, Morisuke washed up quickly in the basin of water, then went in search of Kai. He'd only walked along half of one hallway when he saw Kenma emerge from one of the rooms, looking around furtively. Morisuke got the sense he didn't want to be seen, but there was nowhere to hide, and when Kenma spotted him a moment later, his mouth thinned. 

"Morisuke." 

"Uh—good morning, Kenma-san." 

"Just Kenma," said the other man. 

"Kenma then." Silence fell between them. Morisuke shifted on the spot. "Do you know where I'll find Kai? Apparently I'm supposed to talk to him." 

Kenma nodded. "This way," he said. With a jerk of his head, he began to lead Morisuke down the hallway. As they walked, Kenma smoothed his hair back from his face, then adjusted his dishevelled clothing. Once he'd made himself presentable, he glanced sidelong at Morisuke, as if daring him to say something. 

"No need for the hostility," Morisuke said lightly. "I've no interest in who you're bedding." 

Kenma's expression soured. "I just don't want Kuro to know. He wouldn't like it." 

"Oh?" Morisuke asked. Then, unable to help himself. "Jealous?" 

Kenma snorted. "Him?" He shook his head. "He just doesn't like…dalliances in his household. He's too prim." 

Morisuke thought about the man who'd so casually asked him to strip down the day before, who'd touched him with such surety, without even asking. "Prim? Him?" 

"Mm," Kenma hummed, apparently bored of talking. He paused, and gestured to a doorway. "Through there."

"Oh…thank you." 

Kenma nodded, then slouched off in another direction. Morisuke watched him go at first, curious, then he stepped up to the door Kenma had indicated. A servant slid it open before he could touch it, from their kneeling position on the other side of the screen. Morisuke stammered his thanks and stepped inside, where he found a smiling man who looked rather like a monk awaiting him at a table. 

"Morisuke-kun," he said, his voice warm as he gestured for Morisuke to join him. "Welcome to the household. I'm sorry I couldn't greet you yesterday, I was away from the estate on business."

"I understand," Morisuke said, polite but wary. "Thank you, but I really don't understand why you're all being so…hospitable."

"Oh?" Kai said, looking faintly puzzled.

"Well," Morisuke said, frowning. "I'm little more than a slave, after all." 

Kai's eyebrows shot up. "You're nothing of the sort," he said, genuinely shocked. 

Morisuke shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps not. But I'm his to do with as he pleases for the next five years."

Kai's face softened. "Ah." He reached out and began to pour tea for Morisuke. "I'm sorry about whatever led you to us, Morisuke-kun, but I promise you that you'll be well looked after now that you're here. Kuroo-sensei is a little...odd, but he's a good man. And Haiba-sama, our patron, is very generous."

"Your patron," Morisuke murmured, reaching out for his teacup with a nod of thanks. "I'd forgotten about that part of it." He took a sip of his tea, then at Kai's gesture, fell upon his food ravenously. After a minute he finally paused for breath, and find Kai watching him expectantly. Morisuke swallowed his mouthful and cleared his throat. "Uh. So, tell me about this patron."

"Haiba Lev," Kai said, watching him with parental fondness as Morisuke continued to demolish what was before him. "He and his sister, Haiba Alisa, are descended from one of the oldest Blooded families. Lev-sama is Kuroo-sensei's patron. You'll no doubt hear from him before long."

Morisuke almost dropped his chopsticks. "Me?"

Kai nodded. "I'm sure Lev-sama will want to issue an invitation, once Kuroo-sensei has begun his work on you."

"Oh," Morisuke said. Only now was the full reality of what he'd done occurring to him. Adorned were canvases, but they were also decorations. The Blooded nobility patronised the work that made them, and the Adorned repaid that kindness by providing entertainment, performing as a living artwork to liven up any social gathering. Adorned were rare, and richly rewarded for their services, even those whose adornment was still unfinished. "So I need to impress this Haiba-sama."

"If it pleases you," Kai said with a wry smile. "I'd ask that you don't offend him, as the estate depends on his patronage. Beyond that, you seem like a man of sense. I'm sure you'll find your way."

Morisuke wrinkled his nose. "Can you tell me what he's like?"

"I've never had the pleasure of meeting the Haiba family myself," Kai said mildly, sipping his tea. "You should ask Kuroo-sensei."

"Right." Morisuke set down his bowl. "I'm to see him next?"

Kai smiled. "As soon as you've bathed."

"I washed before I left my room," Morisuke said, a little offended.

"I believe you," Kai said. "But Kuroo-sensei is very...particular."

Morisuke bristled. "What's that supposed to mean? Do I smell or something?"

"I...believe he wanted to discern the freckles from the dirt," Kai said, looking uncomfortable. "Forgive me, those are not my words."

Morisuke slammed his hands down on the table, making the crockery rattle. "Fine then. If that's the way he wants it, where's the bathhouse?"

Kai looked as though he was barely restraining laughter. "Ah—Fukunaga?" he said, addressing one of the servants. "Could you show Morisuke-kun where to bathe? And when he's ready, Kuroo-sensei will be waiting in the atelier."

"Thank you so much," Morisuke said sarcastically. 

Kai nodded. "It's my pleasure."

—

Fukunaga, thankfully, didn't seem inclined to talk. He showed Morisuke to the bathhouse, and then helped him to bathe despite Morisuke's frequent objections, rubbing soap into a lather in his pale hair, and sluicing him down with a pitcher of warm water. 

Finally, squeaky clean and patted dry—apparently, rubbing himself with a towel wasn't allowed, for fear of irritating his skin—Morisuke was led once more to the atelier. Fukunaga knocked on the door, then knelt and slid it open for Morisuke to enter. 

"It's about time," Kuroo said, as Morisuke entered, without looking up from his work. He was hunched over his desk once more, and as before, the screens at the edge of the room were folded back, allowing light to stream in through the gauzy paper screens. 

Morisuke paused just inside the room, and heard Fukunaga snigger softly behind him as he slid the door shut. It made his hackles rise, and he clenched his hands into fists at his sides. 

Kuroo made him wait for over a minute, his hand moving slowly over the page he was inking. He paused once or twice, considering what he'd drawn, then just as Morisuke waited for him to lift his head, he would go back to his work with new determination. Morisuke waited, his temper kindling from a spark to an ember. Finally, having had enough, he cleared his throat loudly. 

Kuroo glanced over his shoulder. "I can't do anything with you until you take that off." 

Morisuke stared at him. Had Kuroo really kept him standing there for minutes on end only because he was waiting for Morisuke to undress? Incensed, Morisuke tore off the robe and flung it at his feet, sparing no thought for the finery of the material. The heavy robe crumpled to the floor beside him, and Morisuke stood with his feet apart, his hands on his hips.

"You're not very patient, are you?" Kuroo remarked, sounding amused as he finally set down his brush and rose from his desk. He picked up a leather bound sketchbook and a piece of charcoal, and dragged a stool to the centre of the room. Finally, he sat on the stool, and ran his gaze over Morisuke from head to toe. 

Morisuke folded his arms, and stared back at Kuroo, resisting the urge to cover himself. He couldn't help wondering what Kuroo thought of what he saw; Morisuke was short and slender, unremarkable. He was still a little puzzled that Kuroo had shown interest in him at all, but he supposed that once he carried the work of a master, nobody would be paying attention to his face, or the size of his muscles. When Kuroo continued to do nothing but study him, Morisuke's skin began to prickle. He shifted his weight, frowning. It was just warm enough in the room to keep him from shivering, but he didn't particularly want to stand there all day. 

"What're you doing?" he asked eventually.

Kuroo blinked, as if he'd forgotten Morisuke was there. "Just admiring you," he said, with the hint of a smile.

Morisuke's shoulders tensed. "Is that what I'm here for?"

"In a sense, yes," Kuroo said. "That's what an Adorned is for, after all. To be admired."

"By the Blooded," Morisuke said, a little shortly. "Not by you."

Kuroo's eyes widened. For a moment Morisuke was afraid he'd gone too far, but then a brilliant smile crossed Kuroo's face, and he laughed. "Your talents would have been wasted on calligraphy."

Morisuke clenched his fingers. Perhaps Kuroo meant it to be a compliment, but Morisuke could only think of the bailiff's apologetic grimace as they hauled Morisuke's old master away, the realisation that not only was his apprenticeship over, but that he wouldn't get his apprenticeship tithe back either. He'd used what little money his parents had left him to pay Yamada's tithe in the first place, and the paltry amount he'd saved during his apprenticeship had only sustained him for a few weeks after Yamada's arrest. 

"Well, you're here now," Kuroo said at last, perhaps sensing Morisuke's mood. "And you clean up quite well."

"Do you deliberately make everything sound like an insult?" Morisuke grumbled.

"I have many talents."

Morisuke huffed.

"I want to make some studies of you," Kuroo said, moving the sketchbook onto his knee.

"You mean...draw me?"

Kuroo nodded. "It will help me to determine a design for you."

Morisuke hummed, considering this. "Do I get a say about what you put on me?"

"Does a canvas tell a painter what to paint?" Kuroo teased.

"Do your canvases normally talk back?"

Kuroo laughed under his breath. "Not as much as you do." 

Morisuke snapped his mouth shut, worried he'd gone too far, but Kuroo didn't seem angry. He lowered his head at last, lifting his sketchbook and putting charcoal to paper. 

"An Adorned is a work of art," Kuroo said as he began to sketch, eyes flicking up to Morisuke every few seconds, "but ideally, that art is a collaboration between the artist and the model. It should combine the style and aesthetics of the artist with the inner nature of the Adorned themselves."

Morisuke frowned at him. "Are you an idealist, Kuroo-sensei?"

"All artists are idealists," Kuroo replied, without looking up. "I know Adorned are expected to be charming conversationalists, but I have a lot of work ahead of me. Perhaps we could continue this discussion later."

Shrugging, Morisuke glanced away from him. The paper screens prevented him from looking out into the courtyard, but there was plenty in the atelier to warrant his attention. The walls were plain, but there were stacks of used canvases and sheafs of sketches in haphazard piles, or pinned to the walls. The house seemed to be full of people, yet here in the atelier, it was quiet, almost silent, but for the rustle of the wind in the trees beyond the screen, and the raucous birdsong, and the scrape of Kuroo's charcoal as he sketched. 

After a few minutes he asked Morisuke to move, directing him into different poses while he sketched furiously. When he filled a page, he'd discard it, and Morisuke couldn't help sneaking a curious glance at the handful of sheets that littered the floor. Most were simple studies of him; the shape of his shoulders, the bend of an elbow, the curve of his backside, which he was certain Kuroo had accentuated. 

Others held hints of patterns; twisting foliage, clawed fingers, and animalistic eyes. Morisuke couldn't help but find himself intrigued. It was little surprise that he'd never seen an Adorned before, given how rare they were, and that they were forbidden to show their artwork in public, and he'd never before given them much thought. 

"How many Adorned have you worked on before me?" he asked without thinking, his voice far too loud in the quiet space.

Kuroo didn't look up. "You'll be my fourth." 

"Only three?" Morisuke asked, surprised. 

Kuroo glanced up at him. "How old do you think I am?" he asked, a wry smile playing around his mouth.

That teasing lilt in Kuroo's voice made Morisuke's shoulders tighten. "How should I know?" he said with affected casualness. 

Kuroo huffed. "I was apprenticed to Nekomata-sensei when I was fourteen. I found my patron when I was your age."

"You mean Haiba-sama," Morisuke said. "Kai said I should ask you about him. About what he's like."

To his surprise, Kuroo's expression darkened. "Did he now."

Morisuke watched him with growing impatience, but after several moments passed, it became clear Kuroo didn't intend to offer any more. "Is that it? You're not going to tell me anything?"

Kuroo shook his head. "I know when to hold my tongue."

"Are you suggesting I don't?"

"Do you?" Kuroo asked, giving him a sly look. 

Morisuke blew out an exasperated breath. "You're infuriating."

"I've been told," Kuroo said, still looking amused. 

"Be as mysterious as you like," Morisuke said, shrugging. "I'll have to meet him eventually, won't I? If you won't tell me, I'll find out for myself."

Kuroo's expression sobered. "Be careful what you wish for," he said quietly. He raised his hand and gestured for Morisuke to turn. "Face the window, please."

Scowling, Morisuke did as he was told. Talking to Kuroo made his blood churn in his veins. It made him want to pick something up and throw it. Instead, he tried to focus on the breeze rustling the leaves beyond the paper screens until Kuroo finally dismissed him. 

—

It was long past noon by the time Morisuke found his way back to his room, where he was relieved to find that a set of simple clothes had been left out for him. He slipped off the thin robe and dressed hurriedly. His stomach roared as he straightened up, and he realised that he hadn't eaten since that morning with Kai. He couldn't help wondering if Kuroo ate at all. 

Feeling more at ease now that he was properly attired, Morisuke left his room in search of the kitchen. Even if he was too early for dinner, he hoped he might be able to scrounge a mouthful of rice or a piece of fruit; anything to sate the awful growl in his belly. 

Kai found him wandering the hallways a few minutes later, greeting him with the same serene smile.

"Morisuke-kun," he said, bowing. "You're not lost, are you?"

"Oh, uh—I was just looking for, uh—" Morisuke hesitated, but his stomach answered for him with an almighty growl. 

Mortified, Morisuke coloured slightly, but after blinking at him in surprise, Kai started to laugh.

"I see," he said, with a warm grin. "Kuroo-sensei has a habit of forgetting to eat when he's busy with his work. I apologise, I should've arranged to have something brought to you."

"It's not your fault," Morisuke said quickly. "I didn't think to ask."

Kai shook his head. "Still, we can't have you wasting away. Why don't you follow me." 

Morisuke did as he suggested, and Kai led him along a series of hallways until they reached the kitchen. Shibayama and another servant were busy preparing ingredients, while at the far end of the room sat a man that Morisuke didn't recognise. He was clearly not one of the servants; from his bearing and stocky build, Morisuke guessed that he might be a labourer, but then he caught a glimpse of the brightly coloured inkwork on the man's forearms and his eyes widened. 

"What's this, Kai-san?" the man called out, watching Morisuke with open hostility. "A visitor?"

Kai cleared his throat. "I believe Kenma already told you we had a new addition to the household, Taketora-kun."

Interest sparked in the young man's eyes. He looked no older than Morisuke himself, although he was much broader, and probably taller too, though it was impossible to tell as he remained seated. His head was shaved almost to his scalp, except for a shock of thick hair that ran in a stripe over the centre of his skull, like the mane of a horse. He wore a loose clothing, revealing glimpses of the fabulous artwork below. 

Kai introduced them without ceremony, and Morisuke dragged his eyes from the tantalising glimpse of Taketora's patterned chest to his bare face. 

"So this is my new brother," Taketora said, running his eyes over Morisuke. He glanced at Kai. "Isn't he a little young?"

Before Morisuke could retort, Kai laid a gentle hand on his arm. "He's actually your senior, Tora-kun," Kai said steadily. "I hope that you'll show him respect, and help him acclimate to his new position in the household."

Taketora looked uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. "Of course," he muttered, looking as though he'd rather do anything but. "Welcome, Onii-san."

"Call me Ya—Morisuke," Morisuke said, shaking his head. "Just call me Morisuke."

Noticing his error, Taketora smiled grimly. "What was your name?" He asked in a low voice

Morisuke bit his lip. "Yaku," he said quietly.

Taketora nodded. "Yamamoto," he replied. His expression was surprisingly gentle. "Don't worry. You won't forget them."

A moment of understanding passed between them, and Morisuke took a deep breath, feeling human for the first time in days. 

"Well," Kai said after a few moments. "I'll leave you two to get better acquainted. I'm sure Tora-kun will be happy to show you the ropes when it comes to your role as an Adorned, Morisuke-san." He bowed as he stepped away. "And in the meantime, I'll arrange for someone to bring you some food."

"Thank you," Morisuke said, with feeling. "You're very kind." 

Kai shook his head. "Think nothing of it. As Tora-kun said, you're part of the family now." He retreated to the other end of the kitchen to converse quietly with the servants, and Morisuke turned his attention back to Taketora, who was watching him curiously. 

"How long?" Taketora asked.

"How long what?"

Taketora rolled his eyes. "What else? How long does Kuroo-sensei hold your bond for?"

Morisuke looked away. "Five years, give or take a few days."

"The whole lot? That must feel like a lifetime," Taketora said, grimacing.

"What about you?" Morisuke asked, keen to shift the topic away from himself.

Taketora shrugged. "I'm in my second year of four, but Kuroo says his work is almost complete."

"So, what then?" Morisuke asked, leaning forward in his seat. "You work for him until it ends?"

"Who knows," Taketora said. "Technically he can keep us here until the day our bonds expire, but he's always released his other Adorned early, once he's completed his work on them." 

Morisuke's eyebrows jumped up. "He lets them go?" Taketora nodded. "But—" Morisuke said, floundering. "But why? Surely he could make a fortune by showing them off."

Taketora laughed. "I guess that's true. You have a head for business, Morisuke-san?"

_If only_, Morisuke thought. Then perhaps he might have been able to do more for Yamada-sensei. "It's just good sense," he muttered, shrugging. 

"Some things aren't only about sense," Taketora said, looking amused. "If you ask me, Kuroo-sensei doesn't—"

"Ah, excuse me, Tora-san!" one of the servants interrupted, appearing at Taketora's elbow suddenly with a dish of dried fruit and dish, and little stuffed rice balls. He set the dish down before Morisuke, while Taketora fell silent. 

Morisuke smirked, and thanked the servant before helping himself to the food. "Maybe you can answer a question for me," he ventured, trying not to talk with his mouth full, but too hungry to finish before continuing the conversation. "Since Kai and Kuroo seem so closed-mouthed on the subject," he added, unable to help himself. 

Taketora perked up again. "Is it about the tattoos?"

"Sort of," Morisuke said, his gaze flitting to the hints of colour at Taketora's wrists and throat. "Actually, I was more curious about the patron."

"Oh, him," Taketora said, looking disappointed. "What do you want to know?"

Morisuke licked his bottom lip, chasing a stray piece of rice. "I got the impression…" He hesitated, eyeing the servants warily, but they didn't appear to be eavesdropping. All the same, he lowered his voice. "It seems as though Kuroo doesn't like him much."

Taketora smothered a snort. "That's one way of putting it."

"And what do you think?"

"Haiba-sama—can be a lot of fun."

Morisuke raised an eyebrow. "Can be? You mean sometimes he isn't?"

Taketora's eyes widened. Perhaps realising he'd said too much, he closed up tightly, snapping his jaw shut and turning his gaze aside.

"Well then," Morisuke said, pushing aside his frustration. "Maybe you can tell me more about what's expected of me. How am I supposed to know how to talk to a noble?"

"Eh, that's the easy part," Taketora said, waving dismissively. "He'll do most of the talking anyway."

Morisuke wrinkled his nose. He hoped, eventually, he was going to meet _someone_ around here who would actually teach him something about being an Adorned. Before he could find a response, there was a shuffling behind them, then someone cleared their throat quietly. 

Glancing over his shoulder, Morisuke saw Kenma standing in the doorway. 

"Tora," Kenma said, his gaze flickering briefly to Morisuke and away again. "Kuro asked for you."

Taketora snorted. "Since when you are his messenger?"

Kenma's expression soured. 

"Alright, alright, I'm coming!" Taketora said quickly. He rose, casting a brief glance back at Morisuke. "Sorry, Morisuke-san. Maybe later…?"

"Later," Morisuke agreed, nodding, and reached for his food. It was the third meal he'd eaten since joining Kuroo's household, and not for a moment had his new hosts been stingy with their offerings, but he was still ravenous, too used to taking each scrap of food where he could, not knowing where his next meal would come from. He reminded himself that he wouldn't have to worry about that any more. No Adorned would ever need to concern themselves with where their next meal would come from. All Morisuke had to do was learn to play his part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please share! and comment! please don't let your friendly neighbourhood rarepair writers starve! :3c

**Author's Note:**

> [RT on twitter](https://twitter.com/notallbees/status/1183819417706291201) | [my kuroyaku fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&commit=Sort+and+Filter&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=2681250&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&fandom_id=758208&user_id=notallbees)  

> 
> this was inspired by a really great lgbt book called the adorned by john tristan, i recommend! lmk if you read it!


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